


In Their Blood and from the Gutter

by TRASHCAKE



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bonnie and Clyde Trope, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Neo-Noir, Smut, mentions of torture, not as bad as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 11:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRASHCAKE/pseuds/TRASHCAKE
Summary: Kyungsoo's morals are questionable at best. Jongin's are worse. They meet under magenta tinged lights, spilling secrets that aren't theirs to tell.





	In Their Blood and from the Gutter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sugar_and_Salt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_Salt/gifts).



> This story contains references to David Berkowitz, an American serial killer active from 1976-77. Before apprehension, he was known as The Son of Sam (due to quotes from letters sent to the police) and the .44 Calibre Killer (in reference to his weapon of choice). His main motivation was to prevent unwanted pregnancies, so that children would not be given up for adoption as he was. 
> 
> I would like to take this opportunity to mention that I do not admire, nor condone Berkowitz and his actions. 
> 
> To my recipient, I hope this is everything you wanted and more.

_And huge drops of lead_  
Poured down upon her head  
Until she was dead  
Yet,  
The cats still come out at night to mate  
And the sparrows still sing in the morning.  
\- David Berkowitz, 1976

Street kids die and no one blinks. The neon signs don’t dim, traffic doesn’t stop, the world continues as if nothing of great importance has happened. Street kids don’t mean anything to anyone, not even their own. So when Lee Taeyong’s body is wrapped in plastic and taken away, no one notices. 

Except for Kyungsoo. 

It’s his job to notice things, like the bloody footprints leading from the scene of the crime, the two bullet casings lying against the brick wall of the alleyway. Neoplastic, by the looks of them. Low grade, cheap. They’ll melt in the rain if left out long enough. The bullets lodged in poor Taeyong’s head have probably dissolved by now. Nothing made of Neoplastic is meant to last. 

Ambulance workers guide the stretcher towards their vehicle. Police aren’t even on the scene. Whoever found Taeyong’s body probably reported it to rid the streets of an eyesore, rather than out of genuine concern. Cops are like figureheads anyway, a token uniformed presence to provide a facade of safety. Everyone knows who _really_ run the streets, the ruling powers lying on the other side of the law. 

Kyungsoo stands at the scene of the carnage, thinking. The alleyway is lined with advertisements, display screens tempting passersby into purchasing their goods. Brightly coloured, subtle suggestions begin to flicker, their message morphing into pink text, repeated uncountable times along the alley walls. 

**FIND HIM**

The message is for Kyungsoo's eyes only. 

**HE HAD SOMETHING OF MINE**

Pink, so very pink. Neon, clashing with the trash and blood and the parts of Taeyong no one has bothered to clean from the walls. Rumour has it that pink was once a soft colour; feminine, kind, playful. Now a colour of fear, Kyungsoo knows exactly who is watching him from the security cameras above. 

“If you saw him,” Kyungsoo says, just loud enough for the mics to hear. Security systems shouldn’t have sound recording capabilities, not legally. But laws are as useless as the people enforcing them, and the unofficial government can do as they please. “Then why do you need me?” 

**MASKED. TELEPORTER.**

Kyungsoo swears. Teleportation is the preferred mode of travel, but it’s usually on a more commercial scale. Getting from Point A to Point B is a simple task using the public teleportation units, but they’re fixed points-- there’s no way to diverge from the path it takes. 

Personal teleporters are another story. They’re not fixed, and run off an external location system. Point A becomes wherever the wearer is, and Point B their location of choice. It shouldn’t be hard to track down someone with a personal teleporter; something so expensive is reserved for the lucky few. But finding someone who can disappear at whim? That’s a brand new level of impossible. 

**FIND HIM**

Neon flashes and Kyungsoo is bathed in pink. 

Whatever the kid was carrying must have been something important, if his boss is so adamant on getting it back. Knowing the area and knowing his employer, it was probably drugs of some description. A loss, but your low-level pusher would never carry anything worth enough to warrant _this_. 

Something has The Boss on edge. 

Kyungsoo never makes a habit of involving himself in other people’s problems, especially street kids who disappear on the daily. 

But Lee Taeyong is dead. 

And now his problems have become Kyungsoo’s. 

\------

 _I feel like an outsider._  
I’m on a different wavelength than everybody else.  
\- David Berkowitz, 1976

There are ways to track personal teleportation units. None of them legal, but legality is hardly an issue where Kyungsoo is concerned. He’s got no official profession, just a name for himself and enough of a reputation to keep regular paychecks. 

Kyungsoo ties up loose ends, so to speak. When things and people go missing, he tracks them down. On occasion, Kyungsoo is the one who takes people off the map, though only if need be. His issues aren’t with killing but more with the mess associated with them; bloodstains are tough to get out of clothing, and he’s sick of watching his back, warily trying to avoid anyone who might seek revenge. 

But a job’s a job, and his keen eye for detail has kept him from ending up like Lee Taeyong and the infinite amount of street kids before him. 

Streetlights and advertisements shine brightly even in the daylight. Fluorescent colours, bright and inviting; their glow distracts from the dirt and grunge, uncleaned streets and poorly kept buildings. A neon Band Aid over the festering wound of a corrupted city. 

Honest folk are easy enough to find. They own local businesses, work their middle-class jobs, take the public teleporters like everyone else-- _normal people_ , living their lives with only regular worries and minimal danger. 

They give Kyungsoo a wide berth as he passes. 

In a sea of neons and pastels, bright coloured clothes and hair, Kyungsoo is the only one who dares to wear pink. 

It’s not his hair, not like The Boss’ foot soldiers and underlings. It’s a single square of fabric pinned to the sleeve of his clothes. _Associate_ , it suggests, someone offered favouritism and hospitality without first fulfilling a blood oath. 

Then again, Kyungsoo has spilled more blood in the name of The Boss than most of his pink-haired grunts. He’s as involved with the underground as they are. 

Normal people, those devoid of pink, they’re so very easy to find. But Kyungsoo isn’t looking for a normal person, and that leads him straight to Park Chanyeol’s door. 

Hidden away inside a small apartment on top of an Asian Fusion restaurant, lies the most informed man in the city. No pink square, no association. Word on the street has it that Park Chanyeol has enough dirt on The Boss that he’s left well enough alone. 

“Whoever he is, I can’t find him,” Chanyeol says as Kyungsoo walks through the door. He doesn’t have to knock. Chanyeol’s probably been watching him via the camera’s since Kyungsoo’s instructions came through. 

“I find that hard to believe,” Kyungsoo replies skeptically. Chanyeol can find anyone. For a price. Kyungsoo has a form of long running IOU dating back to their teenage years, meaning his price is closer to free than bank breaking. 

It’s not by choice. 

Chanyeol, being who he is, just refuses to take a cent of Kyungsoo’s money. He’s got no issues on the source of the funds, because Chanyeol takes just as much blood money, laundered clean, as Kyungsoo does. 

He refuses under principal. 

Friends don’t pay. Associates do. In a business like theirs, a friend is more valuable than all the money in a bank account. 

“The teleporter is modded,” Chanyeol’s hair is messy, and the hand he runs through the strands does nothing to fix it. “The signal is scrambled, so I can only give you a vague location.” 

“Where?” Vague is better than nothing. He’ll have a starting point, at least. 

“East district,” Chanyeol says slowly. Kyungsoo keeps his expression neutral, though internally he’s panicking. The eastern quadrant of the city is known for its low lights and outdated surveillance cameras. It has a reputation for a reason. If someone wants to break a law, be it legislated by the government or The Boss, east district is the place to do it. 

“So he knows what he’s doing, then?” Kyungsoo wonders aloud. Mask, modified teleporter, east district location. Taeyong’s death wasn’t a chance, it was premeditated. 

“I’d say so, yeah,” Chanyeol rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck. “But he’s still in the area, that much I know for sure.” 

“You tracked the signal on his teleporter,” Kyungsoo assumes, “and he hasn’t used it since.” 

“Bingo,” Chanyeol offers a weak set of finger guns and a small grin. “Got his measurements too, and no one fitting the bill has used the public system, either.” 

Well, that answers Kyungsoo’s follow up question. 

“Send them to me,” he says. Chanyeol swipes a finger over one of his many screens, and the details send to Kyungsoo’s wrist display. Handy piece of tech, that. Kyungsoo doesn’t know how people lived before the transplant came into existence. 

“I’d check the bars,” Chanyeol offers, “I mean, if I killed a fourteen-year-old kid, I’d wanna drink to forget.” 

Kyungsoo supposes he’s right. Kyungsoo’s killed plenty of people, but none of them have been young. It takes a cold blooded fucker to gun down a kid, though cold blooded fuckers don’t really dabble in feelings of guilt. 

“Any idea what he was carrying?” 

“I’ll get back to you on that one,” Chanyeol replies. He’ll get that information, somehow. He always does. 

Kyungsoo taps at the interface embedded in his wrist. A small sum of money goes from his bank account directly into Chanyeol’s. 

“You don’t have to pay me,” he says, the notification popping up on one of the screens as Chanyeol works. “We’ve been through this.” 

“Buy me a drink next time we’re out, then.” 

It’s a joke. 

Chanyeol never leaves his house. He eats whatever leftovers the restaurant has at the end of the night, or whatever groceries Kyungsoo leaves in the refrigerator.

“I’ll pay you back someday.” 

Swipe, swipe, swipe. Chanyeol watches Taeyong’s final hours played out on screen. 

“You already have.” 

\------

 _”I’ll be back!_  
I’ll be back!  
To be interpreted as-- bang, bang, bang, bang, bang-- ugh!”  
\- David Berkowitz, 1976

**WHY ARE YOU HERE**

Only one advertising board, only one message. The streets glow pink. 

“He’s somewhere around here,” Kyungsoo says. He looks directly at the camera. “What was he carrying?” 

**NEW GOODS. EXPENSIVE. FIND THEM.**

“A street kid carrying new shit?” Kyungsoo ponders, “Boss must have been fond of him.” 

**DOESN’T MATTER NOW, DOES IT?**

“Is that _jealousy_?” Kyungsoo bites back a laugh. “Was the kid next in line to your throne, Byun?” 

**WATCH YOUR MOUTH.**

Byun Baekhyun’s hair is pink out of loyalty rather than necessity, a street kid and former peddler who fucked his way into high command. Kyungsoo’s gotta give it to him, because he’s gone from faceless grunt to The Boss’ most prized _possession_ in only a few short years. 

To the uninformed, Byun is The Boss. He’s the face of the operation, the man behind the messages. But looming in the shadows lies a far more dangerous force, someone Kyungsoo has met only once. He has never been given the honour of learning his name. 

“I’m worth more to him than you are, and we both know it,” Kyungsoo seethes. It’s not the first time Baekhyun’s threatened him, and it probably won’t be the last. 

**SAVE IT.**

Baekhyun’s relationship with The Boss is a touchy subject. He’s made himself useful, but everyone is replaceable. Baekhyun’s got enough skills to warrant being kept around once The Boss is through with him, though he knows too many secrets to be left alive. 

Byun Baekhyun, above all else, is a dead man walking. 

“Got any info on this new stuff, then?” Kyungsoo pulls his electronic cigarette from his pocket. He’s seen old movies where smokes were paper and tobacco, thinks about how dramatic the scene would play out if he was to light the end as he speaks. But instead he clicks a button and cherry-flavored smoke pollutes his lungs. “Or am I going in blind?” 

**YOU KNOW WHAT WE SELL. FIND THE PERSON SELLING SOMETHING DIFFERENT.**

Kyungsoo scoffs. The person with The Boss’ goods probably has no idea what he has. If it’s being sold, it’ll be labeled as something different and passed on for a fraction of the intended cost. 

“And kill them, right?” 

**BRING THEM TO ME. I WILL MAKE THEM SUFFER.**

“Sure thing, honey,” Kyungsoo mocks. 

He walks out of the alley and away from Baekhyun’s reply. 

\------

 _“I am the Son of Sam. I am a little Brat.”_  
\- David Berkowitz, 1976

If there’s a city that sleeps, Kyungsoo hasn’t found it, and he certainly doesn’t live in one. With the widespread usage of teleporters, the concept of time begins to blur. Live in one country, work in another. Instant transportation at the fingertips of billions, and people begin to sleep when they need to, not only when the sun goes down. 

Most bars are open 24/7, catering to anyone and everyone, no matter the sleep schedule. Though there’s only one place in east district with its own teleportation unit, so if someone wants to be lost, then 44 is the place to find them. 

Multiple stories, an old apartment block turned bar-slash-hotel. One level marked with a pink door, the place where The Boss' minions linger between jobs. It's the same place where Kyungsoo met him for the first and last time, an intimidating man taking shots of liquor laced with gold.

He sticks to the lower level-- the common area, no affiliation required for entry. Close to the teleporter allowing for an easy escape. If Kyungsoo were hiding, it's the place he'd be. Though he's not too certain that the guy he's looking for really _wants_ to run away. It's like he's waiting to be caught.

Killing one of The Boss' boys doesn't come without consequence, even the uninformed are aware. The person Kyungsoo's looking for surely knows he's being hunted, and has chosen the setting for his final moments as a free man.

The killer is already intriguing. So knowledgeable, yet so _stupid_. So willing to take a life while also uncaring about the fate of his own. Kyungsoo is tempted to get to know him, figure out what makes him tick.

"Want me to open the room for you, sir?"

Kyungsoo is greeted politely as he approaches the bar. The pink on his sleeve apparent, standing out through the specter of colour decorating the interior. He's offered service and hospitality that other customers aren't, his association to The Boss granting him certain privileges.

"I'm looking for someone," Kyungsoo replies. He takes a seat, and is immediately offered a drink. Top shelf. Free of charge. Not his usual poison but he'll take what he can get. "Anyone come in needing a cleanup?"

The timing doesn't match up. The killer escaped, hasn't been seen on the system since. There's nowhere he could have washed the blood from his clothes without being spotted by Chanyeol, or even Baekhyun. Kyungsoo assumes he took the long way around, avoiding cameras and cleaning himself up in one of 44's many bathrooms.

"Yeah," the bartender frowns. He gestures towards a dimly lit corner. "That guy."

Seated alone, a pile of empty glasses in front of him. A mask matching Chanyeol's footage lies innocently on the bench beside him. Even from the distance, Kyungsoo can see the blood stains on white shoes.

"Got a name?" Kyungsoo tips the bartender, swiping his transplant over the scanner at the bar. According to the screen, his name is Minseok, and he's just become a little bit richer. Minseok seems happy to talk, so the money is more to keep him quiet. Who knows what kind of friends the killer has, what sort of places they come from. Kyungsoo is a cleanup guy. 

He doesn't like mess.

"Jongin," Minseok replies. "Last name is scrambled, but he's been paying for drinks with a local account."

"Hacker?" Kyungsoo sips at his drink. It goes down easy, undiluted. Top shelf has a price tag for a reason.

"If he is, he's not the best," Minseok supplies. "People like you are untraceable, your name doesn't even come up on my records."

Another gift from Chanyeol. Kyungsoo can't be tracked digitally, and he's almost certain that his appearance on security cameras is deleted as soon as it appears. He's not quick enough, sometimes. The Boss is still able to find him when he's needed. But anyone else who comes looking will have a hard time tracking him down, that's for sure.

"Keep it that way," Kyungsoo finishes his drink in one gulp, just to add to the dramatics. "I was never here, and we never met."

"What about him?" Minseok gestures to Kyungsoo's target. Jongin. Surname unknown. The man still so mysterious, even when named.

"He's going to wish we never met," Kyungsoo replies solemnly. "That much is for sure."

\-----

 _Sir,_  
Don't think that because you haven't heard from (me) in a while that I went to sleep.  
No,  
Rather,  
I am still here.  
David Berkowitz, 1977

"The Boss sends his regards," Kyungsoo takes the seat across from Jongin. He doesn't look startled, nor confused. In fact, he seems to have been expecting the presence of Kyungsoo, or someone similar. "He's so sorry he couldn't make it in person."

"The Boss is probably balls deep in Baekhyun's ass," Jongin replies, reclining in his seat. The cuffs of his sweater are stained a muted red-- blood that couldn't be scrubbed clean. "But I understand, I wouldn't wanna go anywhere if I had a fucktoy like that."

"You know more than I thought," Kyungsoo hums. Only the privileged few have seen The Boss, and even fewer know of his relationship, such as it is, with his right-hand man.

"I've seen 'em," Jongin shrugs. "Out and about, around town. Boss is insatiable, likes putting on a show, if you know what I mean."

Kyungsoo knows. Their first and only meeting, accompanied by The Boss' undone fly and Baekhyun's mouth around his cock. Kyungsoo being offered the same service, though politely declining. A reward, such as it is, of watching The Boss fuck his favourite toy over the table in their private room.

"My favourite thing," Jongin starts, looking past Kyungsoo and off into the crowd. Kyungsoo doesn't glance away, wary of anything that could serve as a distraction for Jongin's escape. "Is that Baekhyun tops when they're alone."

"How do you know all this?"

"You got your contacts, I got mine," Jongin shrugs. "And mine tell me that Kris likes it when his pretty, pink boyfriend takes control."

"Why are we talking about The Boss' sex life?" Kyungsoo sighs.

"Because we want information from each other," Jongin replies, "and we're doing so through roundabout small talk."

"What information do you need from me?"

"Already got it," Jongin grins. "You're in, but they don't trust you. Boss will kill you eventually, once they can get around whatever powerful friend you have." Jongin pauses, looks over Kyungsoo in search of something. "A hacker, maybe? I bet you're in with that Chanyeol dude. He's the only one Boss is scared of."

"I'm not saying you're right--"

"Yet we both know I am---"

"I'm just wondering what made you come to that conclusion."

Jongin smirks, stretches, taps at the screen embedded into the wall of the booth, ordering himself a new drink.

"You looked shocked, but then quickly became impassive when I mentioned The Boss' real name," he replies, "but because you don't _actually_ know him, you didn't correct me when I gave you the wrong one."

Kyungsoo is shocked, though he tries not to show it. He's unsuccessful, if Jongin's look is anything to go by.

"His name is Yixing, by the way," Jongin continues, "The Boss, his name is Zhang Yixing."

"I don't care," Kyungsoo replies.

"You should."

"So what makes you think they want me dead?"

"The pink square," he points to Kyungsoo's sleeve. "They don't trust you enough to warrant membership. If they _really_ liked you, then you'd have a permanent job, not just an association."

"That doesn't mean they want me dead."

"You know what they're like," Jongin points out, and he's right. Kyungsoo has killed people for less, demands from Baekhyun's rose-tinted messages, ordering the _termination_ of lives for even the mildest of disrespect. Knowing what The Boss-- Yixing, presumably-- looks like makes him a threat.

"You got what you wanted," Kyungsoo leans forward, edging into Jongin's personal space. It's not the right time to notice how handsome his target is, but he does so, nonetheless. _Pretty_ is the only way Kyungsoo can put it. "Now when do I get my answers?"

"Never," Jongin says. He leans the rest of the way in, hand resting on Kyungsoo's wrist, their lips a breath away.

"I could call The Boss," Kyungsoo threatens, "let him know where you are."

"But you won't," Jongin breathes.

"Don't tempt me," Kyungsoo isn't sure if he's talking about their close proximity or Jongin's thinly veiled taunt.

"You're already tempted," Jongin whispers. He glances at Kyungsoo's lips before licking his own. "And I'm already kinda fascinated."

"Trying to seduce your way out of a death sentence?" Kyungsoo mocks, "that's low."

"Lower than killing a kid?" Jongin smiles, "you're more fucked up than I am, if that's what you think."

"Please," Kyungsoo scoffs. He raises his free hand, threading it through Jongin's hair. He yields easily, head tilting, following Kyungsoo's whim. "You couldn't get any lower if you tried."

"I could go further down," Jongin bites his lip as Kyungsoo tugs harshly on his hair. "How 'bout I go down on you? I bet you've got a nice cock, you should let me have a taste."

"A blowjob won't save your life."

"And handing me in won't save yours."

Jongin pulls away, and Kyungsoo lets him.

"I'm gonna be here for a while," Jongin fixes his hair, rearranging what Kyungsoo's hands have destroyed. "Go home, have a good think, and then get back to me."

"If I hand you in, I'm dead. If I don't, I'm dead," Kyungsoo points out. He stands, brushing barely there creases from his clothes. "I don't see any motivation, here."

"There's always that offer of a blowjob," Jongin's smirk comes back with full force. "Maybe more, but only if you're a good boy."

Kyungsoo scoffs.

"Remember," Jongin calls out after him. "You're not the only one with friends, Do Kyungsoo."

He's already making his way through the crowd, but he pauses. The only person who knows his full name is Chanyeol, and he'd sooner die than give it up to anyone. Kyungsoo doesn't give Jongin the satisfaction of seeing the shock on his face, but somehow, _somehow_ , Kyungsoo feels he already knows.

\------

 _Like a spirit roaming the night._  
Seldom stopping to rest; anxious to please Sam.  
I love my work.  
Now,  
The Void has been filled.  
\- David Berkowitz, 1977.

Kyungsoo's house is as unremarkable as he is. Basic, bare, hardly lived in. Due to occupational hazards, home isn't somewhere safe, not for Kyungsoo. To others, home is somewhere to rest and relax. To Kyungsoo, it's a prison.

On paper, he _should_ be the only one with access to the apartment. A complex scanning pad embedded into the door frame, it analyses not only fingerprints but his veins, arteries and blood pressure. It registers the scars on his fingers and palms; parts of his identity that are almost impossible to replicate. 

_Almost_ being the key word.

Kyungsoo should be the only person with access to his apartment, but in fact, he's but one of three.

Chanyeol has the capabilities to hack past the system. He demonstrates this frequently, programming a stolen delivery bot to sneak through the defenses, delivering food and supplies when Kyungsoo least expects it.

He doesn't know how Baekhyun manages to get in.

"I fixed some things up, did some tidying," Baekhyun's voice is softer than his messages imply. Pink haired and pretty, he lounges on Kyungsoo's bed like it's his own. The most dangerous man in the city pays house visits, his presence both a blessing and a curse.

"Nice mood lighting," Kyungsoo comments.

He knows it's a threat.

Pink lights are bad news, neon aggressions. Baekhyun is angry, and all it takes is a personal visit and a magenta hue for Kyungsoo to notice.

"So," Kyungsoo continues. He won't show fear. Moving with confidence, he lies on the bed adjacent to Baekhyun, as if they were friends. "What's with the..." he gestures to the lights, bright and blinding, unbearably pink. "You know?"

"You're taking too long," Baekhyun replies. "The Boss doesn't like to wait."

"And how is Yixing?" The name slips out before Kyungsoo notices. Beside him, Baekhyun stiffens in shock.

"The only people who know that name are dead," Baekhyun sighs, "or at least, they're about to be." 

"We know his name," Kyungsoo ponders aloud. Baekhyun sighs again, relaxing into the pillows.

"And soon, we'll be dead."

Byun Baekhyun, dead man walking. He seems surprisingly unbothered by his fate, completely at ease and accepting. His death will not be quick, nor kind. He will suffer until he wishes for death and after days of unbearable pain, he will be given it.

Kyungsoo knows how The Boss operates.

"Has he put out a hit?" 

"No," Baekhyun looks at him; intense, unwavering, unreadable. "But we're threats, and you know how he feels about those."

Kyungsoo has taken out his fair share of threats. More blood stains his hands than he'd rather admit. Contracted by The Boss so that his own hands remain clean. If the hit isn't made by someone in the group, it's like they were never involved at all.

It's Zhang's flawless logic and it holds with the law. It shouldn't, but the police aren't all that concerned about lowlifes and the poor.

"Cut the shit," Kyungsoo sits up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. "You _never_ deliver threats in person," Kyungsoo rubs at his temples. "So what's the deal, Baekhyun?"

"Boss," Baekhyun starts, "Yixing, he doesn't trust me anymore, I can tell." Baekhyun swallows audibly. "And you know what happens when The Boss loses trust in someone."

"How long have you got," Kyungsoo asks. It can't be long, considering the house call. Baekyun must be desperate if he's coming to Kyungsoo for help.

"As soon as you finish this job, you'll get a new assignment," Baekhyun laughs, because it's all he can do. "A hit on me."

"Nothing personal," Kyungsoo replies. If he's asked to pull a hit on The Boss' boy toy, he's in no position to reject the job. Above all, Kyungsoo looks out for himself. Saying no to Zhang will put him in Baekhyun's position sooner than expected.

"Nothing is," Baekhyun replies softly. "Not in this job."

The neon lights glow brightly.

\------

 _There were so many times that the temptation to share my secret became overpowering..."_  
\- David Berkowitz, 1980

**THANKS FOR THE ROOM.  
I DROPPED YOUR NAME AND THEY GAVE ME THE PENTHOUSE.**

**I CHARGED ROOM SERVICE TO YOUR ACCOUNT.  
I KNOW YOU DON'T MIND.**

**IF YOU DO MIND, I DON'T CARE**

**COME VISIT ME, DO KYUNGSOO**

**I MISS YOU.**

Kyungsoo shouldn't be surprised that Jongin somehow finds his personal accounts and contact details. He shouldn't be surprised and therefore he isn't; honestly, he's shocked that it took Jongin so long.

He refuses to spend the money he earns, bank account always full in case of emergencies. Kyungsoo saves his money as a way to pay himself out of trouble-- enough cash to exchange for his life if it ever comes down to it.

But if Jongin knows as much as he lets on, dropping funds on him may turn out to be a worthwhile investment. Judging by Baekhyun's warning, Kyungsoo is on thin ice. Jongin's knowledge may be enough to blackmail his way out of a confrontation with The Boss, buying him enough time to escape and disappear.

It's the best possible outcome. Kyungsoo hates that his life is in the hands of someone like Jongin-- a murderer, unfeeling a cruel. Someone who guns down kids in the street. Kyungsoo judges Jongin because he cannot judge himself. He takes the moral high ground because killing for money is a job, while Jongin seems to kill for fun.

Kyungsoo has too much of an ego to notice their similarities.

Still, he's desperate. He takes the public teleporters all the way to East District, clothes distinctively neon and devoid of pink. Kyungsoo intends to meet Jongin as an equal-- two murdering lowlifes at a bar.

The ID he carries isn't his own. He has a collection of fakes lying around, each one serving a purpose. None of the original holders are still alive, most of their lives taken by Kyungsoo's hand.

Subtle enough to remain hidden, though with enough of a connection to Kyungsoo's past that Chanyeol can find him in a pinch. The ID he carries when masquerading as a civilian bares the name of his first ever hit.

Tonight, he is not Do Kyungsoo. 

Tonight, he is Kim Junmyeon.

As always, he's a dead man walking. Though this time it's a little more literal than usual.

Jongin sits at his regular seat with his customary amount of empty glasses set in front of him. He looks around, observing the crowd expectantly. He's waiting for Kyungsoo, has been so for days.

"I thought Zhang might have got to you," He says, smiling as Kyungsoo takes a seat. "I'm glad you're still alive."

"You should be more worried about yourself," Kyungsoo scoffs, grabbing Jongin's half finished drink and knocking it back. "Zhang's current hit list is three people long, and you're number one."

"And what number are you?" Jongin smiles knowingly.

"Three," Kyungsoo admits quietly. He taps on the screen in the booth, ordering his own drink. Foreign. Neat. Strong. Something to get him through the conversation at hand.

"Meaning Baekhyun is number two," Jongin hums thoughtfully, "he's moving quicker than I expected. I thought the paranoia wouldn't kick in for at least another year."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"And I was talking to myself," Jongin smiles.

Kyungsoo's drink teleports onto the table, adding to the glasses already piling up.

"I have two jobs for you, Do Kyungsoo," Jongin says, "one, look up the name Lee Taemin," he raises a single finger. "It won't be in the news, so you'll have to search elsewhere."

"What does Lee Taemin have to do with anything?" Kyungsoo asks, sipping at his drink. It's smooth, goes down easily, yet leaves a tingling burn in its wake. There is no doubt in his mind that Jongin's tab will be paid for by Kyungsoo's account.

"Lee Taemin is where this story begins," Jongin replies.

He's kept his distance during their conversation, eyes dark and wanting though never acting on it. Jongin relents, shifting closer to Kyungsoo, reaching across the table to run fingertips along the side of Kyungsoo's face.

"Why don't you just tell me?" Kyungsoo tries to ignore him, but Jongin is as alluring as he is frustrating.

"Because that's no fun," Jongin whispers. He moves closer to Kyungsoo, pressing their lips together, softly.

"You said I have two jobs?" Kyungsoo breathes as Jongin pulls away. "What's the second?"

Jongin kisses him again, harder, filthier. He sucks on Kyungsoo's bottom lip, tugs at his hair. Pulling away, breathless, Jongin's eyes stay closed, like he's savoring the moment.

"Never stop thinking about me," he whispers, "not even for a second."

"I couldn't," Kyungsoo replies in a moment of weakness. "Not even if I tried."

\------

 _I didn't want to hurt them..._  
I only wanted to kill them....  
\- David Berkowitz, 1977

Kyungsoo walks down neon streets, groceries in hand. All he's bought is junk and other poor excuses for food, full of additives and lacking in proper nutritional value. It's cheap, quick and easy to eat on the run.

Kyungsoo is always on the run.

Advertisements flicker as he passes, his footsteps triggering a chain reaction. His foot hits the sidewalk, a new row of screens turns pink, adding more neon to the already brightly lit streets.

**THIS ISN'T LIKE YOU**

"and you're back to your old self," Kyungsoo makes sure that his eye roll can be picked up by the cameras. "Did Zhang decide he wants you around after all?"

**DON'T SAY THAT NAME**

"Everyone who knows the name Zhang Yixing is either dead or on his hit list," Kyungsoo shrugs, "isn't that what you said?"

**HE'S NOT THE ONE YOU SHOULD BE AFRAID OF**

"I quiver in fear," Kyungsoo replies sarcastically. He's got enough dirt on Baekhyun and they both know it. The Boss doesn't know about his house calls, their almost friendship. It's enough to get both of them killed. Anyone too close to Baekhyun ends up disappearing, victims of Zhang's jealousy and insecurity.

**WHAT HAVE YOU FOUND**

"It's more complicated than we thought," Kyungsoo replies. He's not lying. Jongin's motives aren't exactly clear, any contacts and connections still left uncovered. If Jongin is part of something bigger, something more sinister, Kyungsoo doesn't yet know. "But I have a name."

**AND YOU HAVEN'T TOLD ME**

"Lee Taemin," Kyungsoo enunciates concisely, clearly. he stares straight into the camera. 

**IMPOSSIBLE**

"It's all I have," Kyungsoo shrugs, "Wanna shed some light or are you gonna leave me in the dark."

**LEE TAEMIN IS DEAD**

"Is he?" Kyungsoo replies, "because I keep hearing whispers---"

**I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU HEARD THAT NAME**

"Like I said, whispers---"

**LEAVE IT ALONE**

"But it's what I've been hearing---"

**YOU WALK A DANGEROUS ROAD, DO KYUNGSOO**

Baekhyun's message flashes, so bright that the words burn into Kyungsoo's corneas. They flash behind his eyelids as he blinks, the warning tattooed into his vision.

The advertisements come back, one by one, flooding the streets with their cheerful tone.

\------

 _I miss my pretty princess most of all..._  
but I'll see her soon.  
\- David Berkowitz, 1977

The search for Lee Taemin, as Jongin predicted, is fruitless when using conventional methods. No news stories, no personal profiles, no evidence someone with that name was even born. A ghost of the past, yet someone so incredibly important.

Kyungsoo wonders how and why he was forgotten.

Ignoring Baekhyun's warning, he goes to Chanyeol for help.

"It's weird," Chanyeol looks at one of his many screens, frowning softly. "It's like he never existed."

"One of my contacts mentioned him," Kyungsoo supplied, "and Baekhyun had a major freak out when I brought him up."

"So he was in with The Boss," Chanyeol theorizes, "so I'm guessing most of his records were wiped."

"Most?"

"There are some things he can't touch," Chanyeol explains, tapping away at his keyboard. "Or rather, there are some things I haven't seen him touch."

"Get on with it," Kyungsoo motions with his hands, impatient.

"Death records," he replies, "I've seen them erase birth certificates, government profiles. But no one pays attention to the anonymous dead, so those records are rarely altered."

"What have you found?"

"Autopsy report for Lee Taemin, dated five years ago," with a swipe of Chanyeol's fingers, the information is projected across Chanyeol's many screens. "Seem familiar?"

Young man, pink hair. Bullet wound in the middle of his forehead. The similarity to Taeyong's case is undeniable, so is the striking resemblance between the two victims.

Kyungsoo's stomach churns.

"Drug mule for The Boss ends up dead in an alley," Chanyeol summarises for him, "and according to this, blood from two people was found at the scene?"

"The killer?" Kyungsoo asks.

"That's not what's written here," Chanyeol frowns, "apparently, this Taemin kid worked with another mule, and he's been missing ever since."

"What about Taeyong?" Kyungsoo pushes, "did he work alone or was he also part of a team?"

"No idea," Chanyeol shrugs, "but I've got the details of the missing kid, if it's of any help?"

"Probably not," Kyungsoo sighs, "I was only told about Taemin, not asked to look for his partner."

"Here," Chanyeol pulls up an older photo, another pink haired boy. Kyungsoo stops breathing.

"File says his name is Kim Jongin, a year younger than the victim," Chanyeol doesn't notice Kyungsoo's shock, continuing on with his explanation. "Police concluded that whoever killed Taemin took both Jongin and their goods. They haven't found a body."

"Interesting," Kyungsoo's voice shakes.

"You know what's interesting?" Chanyeol says lowly, "apparently Baekhyun was the one who identified the body."

"Like, The Boss' Baekhyun?"

"The very same."

"When did The Boss start using pink as his calling card?" Gears start turning in Kyungsoo's head.

"Just after Taemin's death, judging by these dates, why?"

Kyungsoo ignores him, "what can you find about someone called Zhang Yixing?"

"How do you know that name?" Chanyeol replies, his voice darker and far more serious than Kyungsoo has ever heard.

"Kim Jongin is alive," Kyungsoo breathes, "and I think I'm in over my head."

"Fucking hell," Chanyeol curses, "this is dangerous shit, Kyungsoo."

"What do you know?"

"Too much," Chanyeol sighs, "but I'm safe. You're not."

"Tell me something I don't know," Kyungsoo sighs.

"I don't know the connection between Taeyong and Taemin," Chanyeol starts, "but you're on the verge of discovering things you really shouldn't know."

"How dangerous are we talking?"

"The information itself is mild, more like gossip than anything else," Chanyeol replies, "but it's the kind of thing that people involved wouldn't want you knowing, if you catch my drift."

"It's about Zhang," Kyungsoo replies. It's not a question.

"Zhang, Byun, anyone worth knowing, really," Chanyeol sighs.

"And where do you fit in?"

"Where do you think?" He smiles, "on the sidelines, watching, as per usual."

\------

 _I want to make love to the world,_  
I love people.  
... I wish you happiness in this life,  
and in the next  
\- David Berkowitz, 1976

"Who's your friend?" Minseok asks as Kyungsoo enters the now familiar setting of 44. "He hasn't left, has more money than he should, always taking people back to his room."

"It's none of your business," Kyungsoo grunts.

"We're not running a brothel," Minseok frowns, "there's a place down the road for that."

"If he's sleeping with people, it's not for money," Kyungsoo assures him, "like you said, he has enough."

"What about you, then?" Minseok raises an eyebrow, "you don't go back to his room, but he's all over you the second you walk through the door."

"We're..." Kyungsoo trails off, "acquaintances."

"That's not what it looks like."

"Well then," Kyungsoo says, "maybe you shouldn't be looking."

Minseok raises his hands in surrender, "sorry," he says, "your friend is just hard to ignore."

"Tell me something I don't know," Kyungsoo mumbles. "Where is he, anyway?"

"In his room," Minseok gestures in the direction of the elevators. "He left a message with me, asking for you to meet him there."

"The look on your face is implying something," Kyungsoo accuses. Minseok's previously raised eyebrows begin to drop.

"And the look on yours is confirming my suspicions," he smirks, "I don't blame you, though. Your _aquaintance_ is quite the catch."

"Is anyone a catch around these parts?" Kyungsoo wonders aloud. East District has its reputation for a reason. The money that comes through 44 is either stolen or loaned to those unable to pay it back.

"Depends on your standards," Minseok's smile is wry. "Anyway, I don’t think he likes to be kept waiting. You should probably head up.”

“It’s not what you think,” Kyungsoo reiterates.

“What I think doesn’t matter, now does it?” 

Minseok’s grin is haunting. 

\------

 _I can’t get out,_  
But I look out the attic window  
And watch the world go by.  
\- David Berkowitz, 1976

The penthouse is the only room in 44 of any reasonable standard. Reserved for people clad in pink, Jongin lounges in the expensive room like he belongs in luxury. Judging by his past, he’s never really had money. And if he’s on the run, it’s unlikely that he’s come into any since. 

People with money are the kind of people on The Boss’ radar, and an old, presumed missing friend of Baekhyun’s would certainly be of more interest than the run of the mill businessman. 

“You came,” Jongin breathes. He lies on the bed, cast in the magenta glow. He wears nothing that Kyungsoo can see, lower half obscured by the sheets around his hips. He trails a hand down his chest, back arching and eyelids fluttering closed. “I’ve missed you, Kyungsoo.” 

“From what I’ve heard,” Kyungsoo can’t look away. You’ve hardly been lonely.” 

“None of them were you,” Jongin sighs. His hand drifts lower, dipping beneath the sheet and out of sight. “I didn’t call their names, didn’t think of them at all.” 

“We barely know each other,” Kyungsoo swallows thickly. “I don’t know why you’re like this.” 

“I know more about you than most people,” Jongin makes direct eye contact, bites his lips as his hand shifts beneath the sheets. The cotton is thin enough for Kyungsoo to make out shapes, movements. Jongin strokes himself as he speaks, lightly, a tease. 

Kyungsoo watches on, eagerly. 

“That’s not saying much,” he manages to reply. 

“I’ve slept with people for less.” 

“Haven’t we all?” 

“There’s no one in the world like you,” Jongin replies, still teasing, eyes still hooded. “You fascinate me.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know,” Jongin keens, movements increasing beneath the sheets. “But I want you, even if it kills me.” 

Kyungsoo advances, clothes dropping to the floor with each step. He braces one knee on the bed, closer now but still too far for Jongin to reach out and touch. 

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever had,” he mutters, grasping Jongin’s ankle through the cotton, stilling his leg as it twitches and shifts. 

“I’m bad news,” Jongin laughs, breathlessly. “Taking this case is the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.” 

“Is it?” Kyungsoo hums. Jongin lies in wait, spread out and begging. His lips bitten, hair a mess. Jongin is the most beautiful of temptations. 

“You know nothing about me,” Jongin parrots, hand stilling. He withdraws it from the sheets, fingers slick with precome. He sits up, effortlessly, offering shining fingers to Kyungsoo. He takes them in his mouth, sucking softly, more of a show than anything else. 

Jongin’s breath hitches. 

“I know more about you than most people,” Kyungsoo offers him a grin. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“We’re both going to die,” Jongin says softly, “you and me, we’re dead men.” 

“What’s your solution, then?” Kyungsoo asks, crawling onto the bed, hovering over Jongin’s form. They’re close, though not touching. One movement and their lips will connect, but they stay still, unmoving. 

“Stay here until they find us,” Jongin breathes, “drink, fuck, talk. When I go out, I want to go out after the best orgasm of my life.” 

“What makes you think they’ll find us?” Kyungsoo asks, “what makes you think I’m that good in bed?” 

“Because I’ll tell you everything,” Jongin replies, “and then you’ll have to call them,” he reaches up, pushes the hair away from Kyungsoo’s forehead, “and they’ll kill us both.” 

“I know that,” Kyungsoo says slowly, “I was just wondering what makes you think you’ll have the best orgasm of your life.” 

“I’m obsessed with you,” Jongin leans up, an attempt to kiss him. Kyungsoo pulls away, a tease. “You could watch me while I touch myself and it would be amazing, just one kiss and I’m already hard,” he leans forwards again, and Kyungsoo indulges him. A soft kiss, lingering, longing. “Just having you is good enough.” 

“Why?” 

“I see myself in you,” Jongin laughs, “both figuratively and literally,” he raises his eyebrows in suggestion. “Is that narcissistic of me?” 

“You’re an alcoholic serial killer,” Kyungsoo replies, “I think narcissism is the least of your problems.” 

“My problem right now is the lack of sex we’re having,” Jongin wraps his legs around Kyungsoo’s hips, pulling their crotches together. The sheet still separates them, but there are parts where skin meets skin as the cotton shifts. “C’mon, Kyungsoo, make me scream.” 

“Later,” Kyungsoo mutters. He’s unable to resist, pressing kisses along Jongin’s neck and chest, down his sternum. 

“Oh,” Jongin sighs, his breath hitching. “Am I topping this round?” 

Kyungsoo hums his confirmation, dragging his tongue along Jongin’s nipple, “you’re so worked up already, you’ll get off quicker this way.” 

“Tease me, drag it out,” Jongin groans, “we’ve got all the time in the world.” 

“No,” Kyungsoo shakes his head. “We really don’t.” 

Jongin kisses him like their time isn’t limited, slow and desperate, sighing into Kyungsoo’s mouth. The sheets continue to shift, Jongin writhes on the bed, displacing the cotton with each shift of his hips. Soon, he’s bare, skin exposed and pressed against Kyungsoo’s. They grind together, slowly, hands wandering and never still. 

They don’t have the luxury of exploration, but Kyungsoo soon discovers the wonderful heat of Jongin’s mouth around his cock. The slick, slow glide of his tongue. He relishes the taste as he returns the favour, hands pinning wildly bucking hips to the bed. 

He fingers himself for Jongin’s viewing pleasure, facing the wall as his fingers push through his rim. Kyungsoo can’t see Jongin’s face, but he can hear the gasps and groans, the heavy breathing. He can feel the hands parting his cheeks, all so Jongin can get a closer look. 

Kyungsoo’s original intention was to ride Jongin, look after him, control the pace. Jongin has other ideas, pushing into him as they’re chest to chest, Kyungsoo’s legs locked around his hips. The pace is slow, drawn out. Jongin bites his lip as he feels the drag of Kyungsoo’s walls against his bare cock. 

“Better than I could ever imagine,” Jongin groans into the skin of Kyungsoo’s neck. “You’re beautiful like this, we’re beautiful.” 

Jongin is the beautiful one, with his puffy lips and marked neck. The magenta glow of the room reflecting off his skin. Once a colour of fear, Kyungsoo will never be able to associate pink with anything but Jongin and how he looks when he comes. 

Lazily, he jerks Kyungsoo off in the afterglow, licking his fingers clean. 

Pulling Kyungsoo close, they doze. Blissful and safe, if only for a moment.

\------

 _I am not well_  
Not at all  
\- David Berkowitz, 1978

Four boys. Two that are best friends, the others on the brink of something more. Runaways, street kids, rejects from bad homes. They take solace under the wing of a powerful man who believes in them, trusts them with his drugs and with his money. Together they work the streets, pushing the newest goods onto those more vulnerable than they are. 

As a group, they ruin some lives and end others. But it’s a small price to pay for a paycheck and a sense of belonging. Desperation unites them, loyalty binds them, an oath taken pushes them into a life from which they can never escape. 

One boy, Yixing, catches the eye of their boss; the powerful man who took them from the streets and into his arms. The boss is demanding, insistent. The boy sees it as a way up and a way out. He falls into the boss's bed, the hands that touch his body are not the ones he loves. But he perseveres, for his favour with the boss grants protection to his friends. 

Another boy, Baekhyun, sports pink hair and starts a trend throughout the mules and underlings. He’s idolized by the younger workers, though he remains heartbroken as the love of his life succumbs to the desire of someone else. Baekhyun is handed a gun and taught to shoot. He is handed a photo and told to kill. When the images of the dead no longer flash behind his eyes, Baekhyun sits behind a computer and illuminated by the screens, he learns to control the city from his bedroom. 

The best friends, Taemin and Jongin, they stay together-- always a team, never separated. They too raise in rank, becoming leaders of the street kids, bosses in their own rights. They control the streets as their Boss controls them, turning profit and gaining new territories in the name of their group. 

But Taemin gets greedy, begins to steal. A little bit here and there, taking profits for himself. The missing money is soon noticed, first by Jongin and then by those in charge of The Boss’ finances. The penalty for stealing is death-- slow and painful, brutal and cruel. It would take days, weeks for the boy to succumb. 

In pity, Jongin corners him in an alleyway, apologising softly before the Neoplastic bullet hits his forehead. It’s better, Jongin reasons, for Taemin to die painlessly by a friendly hand than under the torture of uncaring strangers. 

Seeing his opportunity, Jongin runs. He dumps their goods into the river and disappears. 

The Boss soon becomes rageful, jealous. He makes a demand for Baekhyun’s head, enraged by Yixing’s affection for his childhood friend. 

Yixing, usually so calm and selfless, snaps. He emerges from The Boss’ bedroom, naked and covered in blood. He doesn’t smile, barely blinks. 

He throws the severed head of his former lover to the floor, the blood pooling at his feet. 

“I am your boss now,” he spits, “not that you’ll be alive long enough to respect it.” 

Those loyal to Yixing begin their attack, the blood of former members joining their boss’ on the floor. With a massacre, he takes over the mantle and casts the streets in a sinister, fuschia glow. 

 

“That’s...” Kyungsoo trails off, “that’s the information that will get me killed?” 

“You don’t understand,” Jongin sighs, rubbing his hands across Kyungsoo’s bare shoulders. “People _respect_ Yixing. And they’d lose it if they found out he was a former street kid slash plaything.” 

“His first order of business was a massacre,” Kyungsoo points out, “that’s something to be feared.”

“Once a street kid, always a street kid,” Jongin replies, “and no one gives a fuck about us, even when we’ve got power.” 

“So it’s all a bid to protect his image?” 

“Bingo.” 

“And Baekhyun?” 

“Yixing was The Boss’ lover,” Jongin explains. It’s not the type of conversation that warrants seduction, but his hands begin to wander. “And he killed him.” 

“Now he’s scared Baekhyun will do the same?” 

“Baekhyun is more likely to kill himself than kill Yixing,” Jongin’s hands retract as he rolls over, staring at the ceiling. “Which he’s technically doing by sticking around. He’s got ways out, he just refuses to take them.”

“He loves Zhang that much?” 

“Yixing loves him too,” Jongin says quietly, “which is why there will only be a hit. One bullet, no pain. The most compassion he’s currently capable of.” 

“That’s----” 

“This life fucks you up,” Jongin says quietly, “the power has gone to Yixing’s head. He’s constantly paranoid and on edge, suspecting even the only person in the world who doesn’t wish him harm.” 

“It fucked you up, too,” Kyungsoo replies, “you killed Taemin, you killed Taeyong.” 

“Was that his name?” Jongin hums, “I saw him pocketing cash one day and felt sorry for him. So I found him the next time he was in the area and put him out of his misery.” 

“Just like Taemin.” 

“That kid, whatever his name was, he brought back memories for me,” Jongin’s gaze remains transfixed on the ceiling. Kyungsoo remembers the similarity in their appearance and now, the similarity of their stories. “The only way out for him was death. I just made sure it was painless.” 

“And the goods?” 

“In the river, just like before.” 

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo curses, “what should I tell Zhang?” 

“Nothing,” Jongin says softly. “Baekhyun’s probably been watching you, so he knows you’re here. I’m guessing he’ll interrogate that bartender, find out I’m still alive and figure it out on his own.” 

“What’s the plan, then?” Kyungsoo rubs at his temples. He’s not one to tell secrets, but Baekhyun has never trusted him. There’s no escape, no way out. Not even Chanyeol can help him at this point. 

“Fuck until they find us, go out coming,” Jongin smirks, “hope whoever pulls the hit gets a few come stains with all that blood they can’t wash out.” 

“You’re awfully calm about all this,” Kyungsoo sinks back into the mattress, back into Jongin’s arms. 

“I was dead the moment that pink dye touched my hair,” he replies quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of Kyungsoo’s head. “I’ve just been delaying the inevitable.” 

\------

 _You have been chosen_  
You have been chosen to die  
I curse your mother’s grave…  
I curse your mother’s grave  
\- David Berkowitz, 1977

Jongin stays true to his promise, over the course of the next few days, he rarely lets Kyungsoo leave the bed. His lust insatiable, Jongin makes Kyungsoo come more times than he can count. He sinks to his knees, worshipping Kyungsoo’s cock with his mouth, dragging it out until Kyungsoo begs to come. He rides Kyungsoo with momentum enough to dent the wall behind the bed, his hole still slick from earlier rounds, they stain the bed with lube and come.

Sometimes he bends Kyungsoo over, pushes into him. Other times they fist each other’s cocks, kissing sloppily as they spill over each other’s hands. Jongin never fails to join Kyungsoo in the shower, licking droplets of water from his skin and starting the process anew. 

In their downtime, they talk. Old dreams and aspirations, everything they can think of. Jongin is narcissistic, dependent on the spirits he drinks, unfeeling and uncaring about the blood on his hands. 

Kyungsoo, as it turns out, is exactly the same. 

“A hitman and a serial killer, two unfeeling souls intent on killing each other who end up falling in love,” Jongin comments, “that makes for a great story.” 

“Can people like us really feel love?” Kyungsoo wonders aloud. 

“You’re more surprised that I love you than the fact that I was going to kill you,” Jongin laughs, “you unfeeling bastard.” 

“I was dead the moment I took this case,” Kyungsoo shrugs, “I’m guessing I’m another one of your pity murders?” 

“You were, yes,” Jongin confirms, “the moment you learnt my name, I knew they’d want to torture you for information,” he offers a shrug of his own, “or for fun. You can never tell with Baekhyun.” 

“Are you sure it’s love?” 

“Are you sure it’s not?” 

Kyungsoo pauses, thinks. He can’t grasp the concept, but what he’s feeling isn’t something he’s experienced before. “I’m obsessed with you,” he says, finally. 

“That makes two of us.” 

\------

 _Not knowing what the future holds,_  
I will say farewell  
\- David Berkowitz, 1976

A week passes. 

No one comes for them. 

Kyungsoo decides it’s time to detach himself from Jongin, long enough to contact Chanyeol. 

“Baekhyun’s on a rampage,” he says through the receiver, his voice emanating from the implant in Kyungsoo's wrist. “He’s got people casing 44 but he can’t get to you.”

“Why?” Kyungsoo can’t help but ask. Baekhyun is the most powerful man in the city, and he can’t storm a bar. The reasoning is beyond him. 

“Security systems are too good,” Kyungsoo can almost _hear_ Chanyeol’s shrug. “And I’d know, considering I designed them.” 

“So if I leave…” Kyungsoo trails off. He’ll have to walk out eventually. His money won’t last forever, each day spent in the penthouse makes a bigger dent in his finances.

“I don’t know what he’ll do,” Chanyeol sighs. “His friend is alive, he’s fucking an affiliate and they’re both tied to the murder of one of their mules and a whole bunch of stolen drugs.” 

“He’ll kill us both,” Kyungsoo points out. 

“He’ll want to talk, first,” Chanyeol replies, “get the full story before he resorts to torture methods.” 

“What should I do?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. “What should _we_ do?” 

“Bite the metaphorical bullet,” Chanyeol says. “This is a pinch I can’t get you out of, and I’m so sorry for that.” 

“You’ve done all you can,” Kyungsoo assures him, “I could never have asked for anything more.” 

“I love you,” Chanyeol whispers, “I mean that in the most platonic way possible, but you’re the only one who’s ever cared.” 

“And you’re the only one I’ve ever cared for,” Kyungsoo replies. 

“Don’t let your boy toy hear that,” Chanyeol laughs, hiccups. Kyungsoo doesn’t need to see him to know that he’s crying. 

“Goodbye, Chanyeol,” he says with finality. 

“It’s been nice knowing you,” Chanyeol replies. 

He’s met with the sound of the dial tone. 

\------

 _I don’t want to kill anymore_  
No sir  
No more.  
\- David Berkowitz, 1976

Fully clothed and ready to face his fate, Kyungsoo links hands with Jongin as they make their way through 44. Minseok nods solemnly at them as they pass, pressing his hand over his heart as condolence, respect for the walking dead.

Jongin’s personal teleporter makes an appearance, wrapped crudely around his wrist. It’s an older model, chunky in both design and from excessive modification. He never explains how he got it, though considering his track record, the original owner is surely long dead. 

“What’s this for?” Kyungsoo pokes at the metal with curious fingers. Jongin swats his hand away. 

“Quick escape,” Jongin replies, “just in case.” 

“We haven’t used it earlier because?” 

“It’s only powerful enough to do intercity jumps,” he explains, “and with the added person, I think we’ll only make it to central before it fails.” 

“They’ll find us real quick,” Kyungsoo jokes, “there are more cameras in central than people.” 

“Exactly,” Jongin sighs, “just prolonging the inevitable I guess.” 

The neon lights burn away at Kyungsoo’s vision. Hand in hand, he and Jongin step out from the protective barrier of 44 and into the streets. The second they breach the exit, the advertisements turn predictably pink. 

**DEADMAN WALKING**

The signs flash as they pass. There’s an alleyway nearby, one of the few with a mic equipped camera. It’s the best place for their final showdown. Pink haired goons watch on, waiting for Baekhyun’s confirmation as they hurry past. 

**I SEE TWO RATS**

Baekhyun’s message fills the alley. Jongin still looks so pretty while bathed in neon pink. 

“Yours isn’t a secret worth dying for,” Kyungsoo says, making eye contact with the camera. 

**YOU HAVE BOTH KILLED FOR LESS**

“And you’re about to be,” Jongin counters, “how long do you think you’ve got?” 

**ENOUGH TO WATCH YOU SUFFER**

“Why don’t you run?” Kyungsoo asks, gripping Jongin’s hand tightly. “You’re capable of disappearing if you want to.” 

**PEOPLE LIKE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND LOVE**

“You’d rather die so that Yixing feels safe?” Jongin scoffs, “that’s not love, that’s suicide.” 

**WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE GOODS**

Baekhyun is obviously sick of talking. He gets straight to the point. 

“I ditched them,” Jongin says, “just like I did with Taemin, just like I’ve done dozens of times before.” 

“You’ve killed more than two?” Kyungsoo whispers, surprised. 

“What do you think I’ve been doing this past five years,” Jongin replies. “Kill the unfaithful mules, take their money. Not just from Zhang’s group, though.” 

**YOU WERE WEEDING OUT THE WEAK**

“I was _saving_ them,” Jongin counters angrily, “you, people like you, they’d make them beg for death before the end,” his hand clenches around Kyungsoo’s, “I was saving them from that kind of fate.”

Jongin, Kyungsoo begins to realise, functions on a warped sense of compassion. He kills mercifully, though without mercy at the same time. In his head, he’s a hero, a saviour, a god. Jongin murders for what he considers good and out of a twisted sense of caring. 

**YOU NEVER LEFT THIS LIFE**

Baekhyun continues to taunt him. Kyungsoo can feel Jongin trembling in rage. 

“I made my own life,” he replies. 

**TWO SICK BASTARDS FUCKING THE GUILT AWAY**

“We’re not talking about you and Zhang,” Kyungsoo scoffs. He’ll be dead soon, he wants to get one last jab in before Baekhyun’s goons tear out his fingernails. 

**YOU LEAVE US OUT OF THIS**

“You’re the reason we’re in this mess,” Jongin cries. He lets go of Kyungsoo’s hand in order to clutch his head in frustration. “You’re both too fucked up to admit that your emotions run deeper than you think,” he’s borderline screaming by this point, “you were the same back then and you’re the same now.” 

**I AM HIS ONLY WEAKNESS**

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Kyungsoo mumbles. 

**IT’S TOO LATE FOR ME**

Jongin pauses.

“Baekhyun,” he says calmly, “please don’t cry.” 

Kyungsoo looks at him in confusion. Jongin offers him a small smile in response. 

**I’M NOT CRYING**

“I know you,” Jongin’s reply is softer this time. “At least confess before he orders the hit, I think you both need it.” 

**IT WON’T CHANGE HIS MIND**

“No,” Jongin shakes his head. “But it will give you closure.” 

**A JUNKIE KILLED TAEYONG AND TOOK THE DRUGS. THAT'S THE STORY.**

“What?” Kyungsoo’s head involuntarily twitches in confusion. 

**THE ONE KYUNGSOO HAS TO ROUGH UP FOR PAYMENT**

Oh Sehun, a street kid with bad habits that lives in an alley not far from where Taeyong was murdered. Someone always late with payments, but prone to paying interest. Kyungsoo often plays debt collector when he falls behind. 

**HE OVERDOSED LAST WEEK. HE'S DEAD.**

The perfect scapegoat. 

“But why,” Kyungsoo starts, “why are you doing this.” 

**I AM LOYAL**

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to speak, but Baekhyun’s next message cuts him off. 

**I AM ALREADY DEAD**

“Baekhyun---” 

**ONE OF US SHOULD MAKE IT OUT ALIVE**

He’s referring to their old group, the four boys from Jongin’s story. Taemin is long dead, the hitmen heading for Baekhyun’s door at any moment. The Yixing from so long ago is gone, not dead literally but figuratively. 

Their loyalty still binds them, just as Jongin said. 

**THERE'S A TELEPORTER ONE BLOCK AWAY**

“Why are you doing this?” Jongin asks, though the answer is clear. Baekhyun will be dead before their conversation ends, whoever tasked with his death already at the door. 

**CAMERAS ARE OFF**

Kyungsoo suspects Chanyeol may have something to do with it, knowing his affinity for spying on Kyungsoo’s whereabouts and ensuring his safety. 

**RUN**

They don’t need to be told twice. Jongin takes Kyungsoo’s hand, fleeing into the neon streets. The pink haired goons seem confused, disorientated. They don’t notice as Kyungsoo and Jongin escape. 

The signs along the streets flash, their messages illuminating the streets. 

**DEAD MAN** they say.

**LONG LIVE THE BOSS**

\------

 _Yours in murder,_  
Mister Monster  
\- David Berkowitz, 1976

The teleporter glows, silver base illuminated with neon green rings. The destination pad allows for limited travel, but there are enough options for connecting paths, roads to teleporters with unlimited options and places far out of Yixing’s reach. 

“So,” Jongin says, “where are you going?” 

“With you,” Kyungsoo replies immediately. 

“Travelling together makes us easier to track,” Jongin points out. He’s right. Yixing will be looking for them and any path they take as two will stick out. Not many people travel in groups, making their destination easy to single out if someone goes looking. 

And Yixing, judging by what Kyungsoo knows of him, will definitely look. 

“What now?” 

“I’ve lived most of my life without you,” Jongin says quietly, “but it’s going to be hard, learning to do it again.” 

“Maybe we could meet sometime in the future,” Kyungsoo replies, “as normal people, not a hitman and a serial killer.” 

“Find a real job, make an honest living,” Jongin looks close to tears, “sounds like a plan.” 

“Is this what you really want?” 

“No,” Jongin says, “but I don’t want to put you in any more danger.” 

“You wanted to kill me, once,” Kyungsoo chokes back a sob. “Now look at you.” 

“I wanted to save your life,” Jongin corrects. He smiles through his own tears. “So that’s what I’m doing.” 

“Promise we’ll meet again?” 

“I swear on my life.” 

Empty words and emptier promises. Once Jongin steps on the teleporter he’s gone forever. Kyungsoo knows this, but he keeps up the facade. 

“Wait for me?” 

“Of course,” Jongin steps closer, pulling Kyungsoo into a kiss. A farewell, a parting memory. 

Kyungsoo never wants to let go. 

“I’m obsessed with you,” he says. 

“That makes two of us,” Jongin replies, smiling sadly. 

They don’t have the time, nor the luxury for a proper goodbye. Yixing’s forces have surely regrouped by now, each of them on the hunt, desperately searching. 

Jongin keys coordinates onto the keypad, a destination Kyungsoo can’t see. 

“Until next time,” he says, stepping into the glowing rings. 

The machine takes a moment to load, whirring to life beneath Jongin’s feet. 

The advertisements fade, a neon green hue filling the alley. 

It’s Chanyeol’s favourite colour. 

**GO AFTER HIM**

The message flashes. There’s still time, still room, the number above the teleporter indicating the transport is set for two. 

**DON’T LIVE WITH THIS KIND OF REGRET**

The whirring increases, the teleporter beginning its final countdown. 

Jongin meets Kyungsoo’s eye with a smile. 

Kyungsoo runs.


End file.
